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Chris Spring: My long, dangerous road to Sochi

By Chris Spring

Thu., Feb. 6, 2014

In a few days, I plan to win Canada a medal in bobsleigh. Two years ago, I was done with the sport.

I was lying in a pool of my own blood when I swore to myself I’d never drive another bobsleigh. My teammates were broken and possibly dying.

Every pilot has horror stories about the track in Altenberg, Germany. I’d never been there before the January 2012 World Cup. But I’d had such a good year — we’d been in the top 10 all season — I had no reason to be afraid of the track.

I don’t overdrive the bobsleigh, which is why I’m fast. That can also get you in trouble, especially in the four-man.

As we came around corner 15, I didn’t quite finish my steer. We started to roll over to the left. It was going to be a gentle crash — the eighth of my competitive career. Normally, we’d have slid down to the belly of the track and come to a slow stop. No big deal.

ut there’s a lot of pressure at the entrance of corner 16. So much so, that it flipped the sled back on its runners and violently forced us up the side of the track wall. We hit the roof — twice — bounced around like a pinball in a pinball machine on a jackpot run.

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The impact was harder and louder than anything I’d experienced. I smashed my face on something. I’m not even sure what.

We’re doing 130 km/hr. Fully crewed, the sled weighs 625 kg. It doesn’t want to stop. But the front axle got caught in the wood and steel supports of the track roof. We ripped away 10 metres of the roof and the sled was sheared down the middle before we stopped.

Crashing is part of the sport, but I had no idea a crash could be that bad.

Tim Randall was conscious and screaming for help. Behind Tim, I could hear Bill Thomas and Graeme Rinholm breathing like … well, I’d never heard anything like it before. They sounded like wounded animals.

I really believed that two of my teammates were dying.

I had my own problems, but I didn’t realize how bad my injuries were until later. A chunk of wood roughly the size of a two-by-four pierced my buttock from the side, angling upward. The hole was so deep the medics could see the base of my spine.

Afterward, people say it’s not your fault, but I was the one driving the sled. I never wanted to hurt anyone again.

I was done.

But, here I am.

I grew up a long way from the sport on Australia’s Sunshine Coast, just north of Brisbane.

When I was 15, I really got into sprinting. I had a bit of success and qualified for the world junior team.

My plan was to go to the Olympics as a sprinter.

But sprinting is cut and dry. You’re either quick enough or you’re not. I wasn’t.

I came to Canada after university. I worked in the oil sands in Fort McMurray for a while, travelled through Europe and Asia. I settled back in Calgary.

That’s where I watched the 2007 Canadian national championships. I didn’t have any intention of getting into the sport. I was just playing tourist.

When most people see bobsleigh for the first time — see those sleds ripping down the track — they think it looks crazy. I thought it looked like fun.

A few months later, I entered the bobsleigh driving school.

At school, they walk you down track and talk about how to steer in every corner. Once you’re in the bobsleigh, everything is happening too fast to process.

On my first ever run from the top, I crashed. As I arrived at the bottom — on my head — I thought, “I’m terrible at this. How am I ever going to be any good at this?”

But I went back up to the top and pinballed my down again. And again. And again. I did that for a week. Slowly, it started to get better.

When an international competition came to town a few months later, it occurred to me that the Vancouver Olympics were only a couple of years away.

I wasn’t even sure if Australia had a bobsleigh team. But I did think that maybe if I get good enough at this, I could still have my Olympic dream.

I made it to the 2010 Olympics as an Australian bobsleigher.

There was no chance I could win a medal. All I wanted was to do well, for all the people who had supported me. And I did terribly.

Out of 30 teams, we finished 22nd in the two-man race. Really, it was only 27, since three teams crashed out in training.

It was pretty disappointing. I’d known I wasn’t going to win — I was driving a sled I’d rented for the season for $10,000 — but I wanted to put down my best runs, and I didn’t come close.

I was inexperienced as a driver and inexperienced on the world stage and it showed.

The thing that really sticks in my mind about those Olympics is the drive home — by myself, from Vancouver to Calgary. That was a very long 12 hours.

I was upset that the Olympics were over, upset that I was driving myself, upset that there wouldn’t be any welcoming party waiting for me when I got there, and upset that I was going back to work the next day, building decks.

I spent a lot of time on that drive asking myself if I was ever going to be good enough to win an Olympic medal. I decided that, with the right support behind me, I could.

After Vancouver, I decided that I would compete for Canada. It’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

There’s never been a single moment of doubt. I’ve never thought, ‘What am I doing competing for a country I wasn’t born in?’ Canada has made me feel like one of its own.

I became a Canadian citizen last summer, on Canada Day. I could have done it earlier, but I wanted it to be on Canada Day so I would never forget it.

The accident took a mental, as well as physical, toll. I had terrible flashbacks.

Five weeks after the accident, Pierre Lueders offered to go on a run with me. He was pretty insistent. Pierre’s the most decorated driver in Canadian history. For him to offer that, after I nearly killed myself and my crew, was massive. I’ll always be indebted to Pierre for helping me carry on in my career.

We took a few runs in my two-man sleigh. Before that, all I could think about was crashing and killing people.

But bobsleigh demands all of your concentration. Once I got going, all I could think about was my line and the next steer in the next corner.

For the first time since the accident, I had one minute where there was no room to think about anything but what I was doing. It was just like the old days.

I still relive the accident, a lot, and it comes at the worst times. I’ll be doing a track walk and I’ll think if you don’t steer right here, you’ll end up crashing and remember what happened that one time …

I know those thoughts are irrational. It was a freak accident. I know that. I try to remember that.

But the less I crash, the harder it gets. I’ve only crashed once since. I’ll probably go a couple more years without having another one, so it’s easy to forget what a normal crash is like.

The accident is something that’s always with me. I can’t simply decide not to think about it. I’ve tried and it doesn’t work.

But I’ve found that on the days when I’m thinking about the accident, I’m usually driving really well.

Now I actually welcome the thoughts. They remind me of what I’m doing and how dangerous the sport can be. It keeps me sharp.

Sochi will be totally different from Vancouver. I’m not going as a no-hoper. I’m the top 4-man pilot for a top sliding nation.

I have an awesome team behind me: Jesse Lumsden, Cody Sorensen and Ben Coakwell. They all truly believe that I’m a great driver who can win Olympic medals. That confidence they have in me gives me even more confidence.

The guys and I are very close. We have to be. It’s not the best athlete individually that will win the gold medal in bobsleigh, it’s the best team.

And maybe the shaggiest, too.

Jesse decided he was growing his hair out, so the rest of us did it too. Then we grew beards.

Some other nations think all Canadians rock around with beards and cut down trees.

We play it up a little bit. It’s helped give us an identity going into the Games.

When I visualize Feb 16, the day of my first Olympic race, I see myself at the top of track. I’m about to blast off my first 2-man run.

I’m definitely nervous. I’m also really proud that I’ve come back, that I’m about to achieve something I dreamed about for so long.

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